The Mischevous Moon
'''Hawk's Aerie Temple ---- ::The solemn shadows of the Church of True Light temple are kept at bay by the soft glow of oil lanterns that flicker and gleam in iron frames attached to the walls of quarried gray stone. ::Parishioners enter through an arched doorway from the Hawk's Aerie Crossroads, passing tapestries of blue, green and yellow velvet on their way to the biinwood columns that flank the aisle that leads into the main worship chamber. Within that chamber are twelve pews, six on each side of the aisle. ::The aisle ends at an open area for the temple leader to give his condemnations of the Shadow and his praise for the Light. ---- Oren Nillu is currently sitting on one of the pews, hands clasped before him, head bent in deep concentration. Here's an out of place lot, considering the surroundings. Stumbling into the temple are three men, though it could be more specifically said that only one is stumbling, the smallest of the lot, a reedy looking man with two knives tucked into his belt. The other two work to support him, one particuarly tall and bulky, the other not so noticable aside from his rather lethargic stare and listless manner about him. "Shades," blurts the tallest as they pause within, his eyes widening as he looks about the interior of the sacred place. His gaze turns down to his two comrades, and his face splits into a mostly toothless grin. "This ain't a brothel, and it ain't another tavern, so one of us took a wrong turn, aye?" The thin man bursts out into a loud laugh, before silencing immediately, his expression reflecting a surge of nausea. Tahnin has no comment, at the moment, staring unblinkingly The two sentries guarding Oren rise the moment they hear the noise, hands going to the hilts of their swords. "Don't," the elderly man says, opening his eyes and rising from the pew. He turns to inspect the three men. "Perhaps not a wrong turn at all? Perhaps you were guided here by a... greater, almost intangible power. A priest once told me that the Light shines to reveal the path, even if we ourselves fail to see the way." The sentries rising cause the taller of the three's attention to snap forward, all thoughts of supporting his nauseous friend forgotten as he pushes him away, his hand dropping down to his belted shortsword. As the guards are called off, a mocking grin again returns to his face. "Aye, that's right. Piss off," he states, before turning that look to Oren. The sudden tossing of weight pushed upon Tahnin takes the oblivious man by surprise, his narrowed eyes widening a bit as he stumbles some. His natural response is to push back against Thin, peering down to him in a vain attempt to understand what's occuring. "..Hey," he mildly protests, reaching his other hand up to attempt to push the man away. Something happens in the process, Graystone's eyes fixing on his moving hand, and his attention is caught, a soft intake of breath just one of the signs of the sudden wonder he's filled with upon staring at the gloved palm and fingers. And, of course, with no support, Thin slides away, bumping against the wall, and thuds down onto his rear on the chapel floor, groaning quietly. Oren Nillu sighs. "Commoners. Unable to hold their drinks." He shakes his head. "Yet even simple men such as yourselves may find solace in the Light. Perhaps for the night it would be best to set aside the vices and pray a little." With the crisis at hand, at least the one involving swords and guards, averted, Tall releases his weapon to peer down to where thin leans on the door. He barks a rather loud laugh at the Duke's assessment of the three, even as he leans down to haul his sick friend up and over his shoulder in a rather unceremonious and undignified manner. "That what we are, aye? Simple men?" He turns about to regard Oren again, nearly smacking his friend's head on the doorframe in the process. "Have to be simple, considering," points out the carried Thin, his voice somewhat muffled, though that's largely due to the fact that he's speaking away from Oren and towards a wall and door. "..I gotta piss, mate," he adds in some warning, though it seems to go unnoticed or unheard, as at that point, Tahnin lifts his much admired hand to present it to Oren, and then his tall friend, his expression suggesting that this should be a rather momentous and important thing. "There is no wrong in simplicity," Oren notes, raising an eyebrow at the hand. One of the guards' eyes widen and he tries to place himself in front of the nobleman, but the old man once again stops him with a quick glance. "Even blinded by liquor, it is indeed hard to mistake a temple for a brothel." He seems about to add something, but then shakes his head. The gesture is thusly quite unrequited. "Be that as it may, perhaps it is best to... make the best of the situation. Might as well pray while you are here. No ill could come of some worship during such a cold night." "It's cold?" asks Tahnin to his two friends, seeming mystified at that. "I'm hot," complains Thin from behind Tall's shoulder. He simply recieves a smack on the rear as way of a command to hush up, which seems to do the trick quite nicely. "Not too hard. Saw the welcoming lights. Practically asking us to come in. Maybe we can still find a few ready to give it up if we look hard enough, aye?" answers Tall with a leering grin. "..Lot better stuff to do than pray," mutters Tahnin, returning to to staring at his hand. He slowly turns it over, exposing himself to the wonders of the back of it, which seem just as amazing as the front. "Perhaps it is a matter of finding the right prayer. The Light takes many forms, not all of them as static as the Church may have once... taught you into believing," Oren observes. "Prayer can always help, as long as you believe in that which you choose to worship." Tall blinks once. Twice. Leans in slightly to turn his ear more towards Oren. "Shades, Raven, he trying to convert us, isn't he? A Duke..a Duke! A Duke is trying to convert us! We must be right important folk, huh? This never happened before, has it?" "Once heard a story about a Duchess converting people. I like that one better," replies Thin groggily. "..what was it called? Lady Lightskirt or summat like.." "Hey!" interrupts Tahnin, finally bored with his hand, his focus, for what it's worth, entirely fixed upon Oren. "You've been to Gatetown before, right? You have a brother or something there? There's some butcher..what looks just like you." Oren Nillu smiles. "I do not convert, merely point in the right direction. I suppose it was indeed too much to ask of mere commoners. Amusing," he adds. "Here I was, praying for answers to certain questions... and in you walk. Perhaps I am simply reading too much into a coincidence. Just remember that religion is much more than just a guiding Light, as long as you believe in a higher purpose." It was inevitable that one of the three would bite, in their varying states of inebriation. Unfortunately, for comprehension sake, it's the man currently with his face in the door, who seems to be progressively close to making a mess of his dinner on the chapel entryway. "What questions, that?" he asks, before belching quietly to himself. Likely the gentle swaying of the man holding him over his shoulder isn't helping much. Oren Nillu's smile, which never seems to quite leave his face, widens slightly. "You know what to do," he tells one of his guards, who nods and moves forward, though his hands are far from his sword and his posture hardly menacing. "Please excuse my guard. You have asked a question and I think it would be a fine time to answer it. Yet he has more pressing matters to attend to. I expect the three of you made quite a ruckus on your way here?" He chuckles. "Yes, no doubt. If anyone was out there, they noticed you." While one of the guards remains, the one trying to exit moves slowly, waiting to see if anyone will impede his movement. Tahnin's shoulders square as the guard begins to move forward, his hand dropping down to his blade as he takes half a step forward - before he's caught by Tall's arm, held in place. He looks up, bleary eyed, to the larger man, before settling down again, tugging off the leather helm from his hand. Tall's attention doesn't leave the approaching guard, seeming quite intent on remaining where he is and forcing the closing man to go around him. "What's all this?" he asks, voice slightly demanding of the Duke. The guard does indeed not seem at all interested in the three men. If unhindered, he simply exits the temple. "Such paranoid feelings," the Duke of House Nillu comments, shaking his head. "Unfortunate, but understandable during these days of hardship we are faced with. Days when you never know it is you can trust. Days when sacrifices are demanded in exchange for the greater good. Please, do not be alarmed. So you wish to know which questions I thought you might be the answer to? Well, what do we all ask? I am certain even the common folk such as yourselves have questions. What are they? I might not be a whore in a brothel and my solutions not a pleasurable, but perhaps I can offer /some/ solutions. Tell me. What are your questions?" Some mild frustration crosses Tall's face at that. It seems delay of gratification doesn't sit exactly well with him. "No, no, none of that. I'm not answering questions about this, aye? If you want to tell us what use you have of us, then you should do it. Or there ain't no point to us being here, issit?" "Oh. Hello," greets Thin as he suddenly spots the guard leaving through the doors to Hawk's Aerie, though he loses interest soon enough once he is out of sight. "Oh, I have already made use of you, I am merely extending you an invitation so I may return the favor," the old man replies. "The Serpent's Eye is out tonight. When I was a very young boy, a kitchen scullion once told me that of all the moons, the Eye was most fickle and whimsical. 'A moon for mischief' he told me. Shadowtalk, I thought back then, yet with time one finds that it is in the most innocent of tales that grains of reality can be found for certain. Is this not... a wonderful night for mischief?" Tall stares at Oren, Tahnin watching the Duke with an odd expression as well. An echo of something dark flashes in the tall man's eyes, his gaze narrowing at the Nillu, before he turns about to shove the door open to the city. Graystone is apparently of the same mind, the man already turning to file out into the night with the other. At the sudden jostling, Thin's face is finally, again, shown to the Duke, a tinge of green in his cheeks. "Such a hurry to leave," Oren states. "Perhaps appropriate." His voice does seem to take a rather sorrowful tone. "I would suggest you make haste. You may find the Aerie a bit... chaotic soon enough." The township outside would be mostly clear with oddly enough no soldiers in sight. Oren and his own sentry make no move to follow the three men. His voice grows from sorroful almost to a plea: "Haste." Glancing back towards the Duke, pausing for a moment, Tahnin again fixes a stare on Oren for a moment, his expression blank. Though, as the door begins to close, he lifts his hand - the same hand he held such fascination with - up to his neck to drag his thumb horizontally across it. A futile gesture, and one which is lost quickly, as soon the three are lost to the darker corners of Hawk's Aerie, one struggling to not vomit at every step. Oren Nillu stays still after the three are gone. Quite a few moments later, he turns to his guard, nods and sends him off running. Category:Logs